Disclosure
by jennapetrova
Summary: Draco and Blaise, ordered by the Dark Lord, are on the hunt for Hermione. They must kill her and return with her wand in 3 days but things take a toll when she offers them a deal. A life for a life. What happens when time runs out?
1. Atlas

"Now Iapetos took to wife the neat-ankled maid Klymene, daughter of Okeanos, and went up with her into one bed. And she bare him a stout-hearted son, Atlas; also she bare very glorious Menoitios and clever Prometheus, full of various wiles, and scatter-brained Epimetheus."

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Chapter One: Atlas

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_If you are looking for a story about star-crossed lovers, or forbidden love, or sleeping with the enemy then I suggest you peel your eyes off this and pick up Romeo and Juliet. This story is not about happy endings or happy beginnings because happiness is a word that cannot be found in the life of Draco Malfoy, a boy who had nothing from the very start apart from his determination to make his father proud. He had never experienced love, or strife, or sadness, or loss, not even a friend. Even now that the war ended and Harry Potter was dead along with the hundreds of Muggle-borns the Dark Lord had targeted, Draco still couldn't find within himself the capacity to feel. Harry Potter was dead and the Dark Lord wanted nothing more than to rid the Wizarding World of Muggle-borns. _

_I apologise if this story isn't what you were looking for, but, if you stick with it, I will hope you see a Draco who is actually no different than a lot of us. He searches for the reasons behind right and wrong, just like you. It is a question he battles daily._

Draco sat slumped on a chair in the Slytherin common room confined with the company of Blaise Zabini, a dark-skinned boy with a very divine mother who had been widowed seven times. When Draco had first met Blaise, he had spoken about how rich his mother's new husband was. Five weeks later, he was dead. Two more weeks and that much wealthier, Ms. Zabini had married husband number six.

_ Whether Blaise was or not, he was still Draco's best friend. Through his experience with Blaise, Draco learned that it is better not to make __assumptions too quickly about someone. In the end, whether Blaise or his mother had killed the wealthy wizards, didn't matter. They died either way, and making wrong assumptions would only cause more pain._

_To make assumptions is to judge. Judging someone is to form an opinion or conclusion about someone or something. Say if I were to walk into a complete stranger on the street. I would look at them from head to toe and notice they had dark clothing, dark lipstick, dark hair, and dark everything, I would immediately dislike them. But what if this stranger was bubbly, and outgoing, and knew how to make me smile? Would I be a bad person for judging this stranger because of their style and colour preferences? Maybe._

_If someone tested me and put me in a room with numerous people dressed similar (but had different music tastes), I would assume, because of their clothing, they liked rock music, or classic, or maybe reggae.__ But we don't need to assume the worst about people because we are _all_ "worst". No __matter how kind you are, or how funny you are, there's a demon inside you that has built up a lot of pessimism your entire life. It's just waiting for the right time to peer out, and because of this we can all come to the conclusion that humans are designed to feel. We are designed to hate, and love, and feel jealous even if that seems like the most horrible thing to feel. We should never feel guilty for wanting to feel loved, or wanting to be angry because that is what makes us humans. And we should never judge others for it either. _

If Draco weren't human, then why was he hoping the Dark Lord would wither away soon? Why did he constantly feel anxious about adding another name to his list of dead bodies? This was not a game. This was not entertainment. He was killing people to satisfy a man who couldn't be satisfied. Draco knew he would not win anything for having the highest number of murders. Nothing except this empty feeling in his gut and the meaningless title of Voldemort's number one hunter.

Blaise was no different except he felt remorse. He actually knew how to feel guilty about what he had done. He knew exactly what it felt like to have the guilt nip repeatedly at his mind. Blaise had wanted it to stop long ago, but Draco had forced him to carry on.

Why had Draco let himself do that? Why had let himself slowly kill his best friend from the inside? Was it because he didn't want to see what he might look like if he cared? Because he _was_ bad. In so many different ways.

"Stop that."

Draco peeped up at Blaise.

"Stop what?" he asked.

"Picking your lip." Zabini fished out a cloth from inside his coal-coloured blazer and handed it to his friend. "It's bleeding."

The hearth radiated its scorching heat onto Blaise so he strode away from it. He sunk his hands into the pockets of his trousers and peered out the window as Draco smeared the blood off his splintered lips.

The winter season wasn't doing his lips any favours either. The colder it got the more addicted he became to picking it. It distracted him from the gloominess that encompassed Hogwarts. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen sunlight. The last time he felt heat as warm as the hearth was mid-summer when he and Blaise were instructed to hunt down Justin Finch-Fletchley who had been hiding out in Madrid, Spain.

It had been daunting enough listening to his old classmate him beg for his life, and in that brief moment when he held Justin's existence on the tips of his fingers, he had let it slip into his aunt's hands. It was like witnessing ice melting helplessly on a sweltering afternoon on the beach.

Why was he even recalling Justin's death when he had another one to plan?

Blaise sighed. He looked over his shoulder at Draco. "Who do you think we're going to kill next?" he asked from out of the blue.

"Why are you even asking me that? You never ask me that."

"Do you think it'll be that Colin Creevey?"

"I don't know Blaise, and frankly, I don't care."

Draco rose up from his seat and ambled towards the door. He'd had enough of Blaise's company for the time being. Maybe in a few hours he'd return and Blaise would be waiting for him with one of his witty and pathetic jokes about the Dark Lord.

Blaise jerked round. "Where you going now?" he asked.

And Draco replied, "To see if they've found Pansy."

And by 'they' he meant Death Eaters. It was pointless to think they would ever help look for someone as useless as Pansy Parkinson. She was practically a sack of potatoes to them; worthless. But Pansy had disappeared after the War, leaving no trace ever since, and Draco was worried that something awful had happened. He knew that nothing would be wrong though, she was a Pureblood after all. Pansy was safe. Besides, to worry was a weakness he couldn't afford.

He opened the door only to meet with the face of someone familiar and scrawny-looking. Bellatrix glared back at her nephew, her hand up in the air as if she were ready to knock. Her hair was dishevelled and all in her face. Her heavily hooded eyes had an aura of wickedness swimming in them.

A smirk arose on her skull-like face as she lowered her hand. "Hello Draco," she said roguishly. "How is my lovely little nephew?" she mocked as she pushed past him and invited herself into their common room.

Bellatrix flicked her wand at the hearth and the fire died out immediately, as if it only took a glance. Of course, with her immense magical ability, she was capable of doing something as simple as putting a fire out. To Bellatrix, it was like reciting the alphabet.

Draco shut the door and turned to face his guest, as did Blaise. "Have you got a name for us then?" he pressed.

With a devious smile she pulled out a folded parchment with mud smeared all over it. She licked her teeth with a cunning venom in her eyes that penetrated through Draco. She was looking straight into his soul, and he did not like it one bit.

Draco went to seize it but Bellatrix backed away. She sniggered and said, "Ah. Not so fast Draco." Her voice was like hissing from a python. So dangerously enchanting to listen to, yet it scratched the back of his throat like nails grazing themselves against a blackboard. "First, I want answers."

"What answers? We've been following the same orders for the past four years. We hunt them down, we kill them, and we return with their wands as a souvenir. What answers could you possibly want?"

Bellatrix giggled. She found this her source of entertainment: messing with people's minds, torturing them, confusing them, anything that made her victim angry or cry was entertainment.

She turned around and aimed her wand at Blaise. "You. Zabini," she said sharply. Her tone prickled his insides like thorns from a rose. It was awful to listen to her voice, let alone feel it. "The Dark Lord ordered you to hunt down Ginny Weasley and kill the blood-traitor. Did you or did you not release her?"

Draco wanted to say something but his lips did not separate. They were bound, sealed to hold back a secret that might save his best friend's life.

"Answer me!" Bellatrix bellowed feistily.

"I killed her. I killed Ginny –"

"Don't lie to me Zabini!" She inched closer to him, the tip of her wand kissing his Adam's apple. "Did – you – or – did – you – not – kill – Ginny – Weasley?"

"Alright, I didn't kill her!" Blaise accidentally leaked. "I let her go. I'm sorry I shouldn't have. I should've just…I don't know what I was doing…"

"Do you know what the Dark Lord will do when he finds out one of his best hunters disobeyed him?" Blaise shook his head, but he did. Blaise knew exactly what would happen to him if Voldemort ever found out. Maybe a simple cast of two words might finally end his misery of guilt, but more likely he would be tortured into insanity like Longbottom's parents.

"He's going to gouge out your sad little eyes before he kills you on this very spot. Do you understand me?"

"It wasn't his fault." Draco cursed his treacherous tongue. Why did he always have to get involved to spare Blaise's neck?

Bellatrix craned her head around at her nephew. A look of surprise drowned her repugnant-expressed face as she turned her body around with her.

"What did you say Draco?" she asked petulantly.

"I said it wasn't his fault." Draco gulped down a frog sitting in his throat. "The Weasleys would've caught us, so I snatched her wand and I apparated Blaise and I out of Belgium. So go ahead, tell Voldemort to kill me instead."

Bellatrix had a sardonic look on her face. Her thin-set eyebrows were oddly shaped and her cracked lips revealed her grotty, uncleansed teeth that used to be as white as pearls. Four years and she had not accomplished her objective: make Voldemort love her. No matter how hard she tried, there was no denying that Voldemort was incapable of feeling love. She was the epitome of damaged goods. Bellatrix Lestrange was the definition collateral damage.

"I wasn't born yesterday! Don't mistake me for an idiot just because I'm not as clever as your mother. I know that you –" she pointed to Blaise. "– have some filthy fondness for that red-headed blood-traitor. But you're family, Draco, and I swore to my sister I would protect you. But my orders are orders, so if I catch you releasing another blood-traitor again, I won't hesitate to kill you myself," she said before she looked back at her nephew with disappointment. "Even you."

She scowled at them both before she handed the parchment to Draco and exited the way she invited herself in. The door shut with a loud bang and the vibrations reverberated through the floor, through their shoes and up their veins into their flesh.

In the new silence, Draco's emptiness resonated inside him. He felt so empty all the time, sometimes almost like all of his organs and bones had dissolved, and all the blood had drained from his veins, and it was so exhausting that he felt both nothing and everything at the same time.

_Have you ever felt so empty that you don't even know if you are a real person? You are probably just a ghost with a beating heart that won't stop hurting. Maybe you are a whisper lost in the absence of the wind trying to find comfort through rain. Or maybe you are the thunder that roars in the heavens because you don't know what to feel. You are merely nothing but a speck of dust in the galaxies and constellations that even Atlas cannot fathom. You are simply like me, we have the same impulses, we bleed and we cry because that is the way our bodies respond to us feeling. We are not the sun, planets do not need us to survive, but we survive on each other. _

_Draco was not like that. He was empty, yes, but he was not balanced. He was half empty, half full. Like a wine glass. Nobody knew if he was hurting or if he was just bored. Draco was a fiasco waiting to happen. He was just a boy._

"Draco?" Blaise nudged him in the elbow. "Open it, I want to know who is next." His tone sounded anxious about what was going to slip out of Draco's mouth. He hated seeing another name, another location, and it was not because he had to travel again. It was because he hated killing. He despised the look his victims gave him when they took their last breath and it was the guilt that overwhelmed him, that followed him, that kept him up most of the night, which hurt the most.

Draco opened it, his fingers tracing the rim of the parchment first, before they unfolded it with hesitance. He felt sick of running, and hunting, and killing. He wanted to sleep and never wake up. He wanted to plummet into a deep slumber where not even a screeching mandrake root could awaken him.

But when his eyes scanned over the words inked on the parchment, he swore he could feel his insides burning up with repugnance. There it was. Staring back at him was a cursive writing that spelled out **Volgograd, Russia, Hermione Granger**.

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I'm so nervous about posting this because my writing skills suck and there are so many good writers out there. I hope my vyvanse will help make it better. It's the shortest chapter (I think) that I've wrote but I just wanted it done and out of the way because I had no idea how to begin it. Please review, I'd love to hear what you think, they are also my motivation to keep writing!

There will be explicit language, death, violence, and maybe sexual content (I suck at writing smut ya see). So...don't say I didn't warn ya, 'cause I did. :)

Jenna xoxo

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Update: Thank you **Melissa** for helping me fix this chapter and betaing it, I owe it to you and I can't thank you enough! So I dedicate this story to you!


	2. Orpheus

I've been in Bulgaria the past week and can I just say how beautiful Sofia is. I love it so much, the people are so welcoming and the museums are so lovely. So, shoutout to Bulgaria for being such an incredible country.

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Chapter Two: Orpheus

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_They say that when you fall down, you should pick yourself up again. But what if you shattered into a million shards? What happens then? It would take more than just a day, a week, a month to glue yourself back together because as you stick the fragments one-by-one, you relive each memory all over again. And it hurts occasionally, s__ome memories are sharper, more painful than others.__ They are never bad enough to break that shard into another million pieces, nor are they good enough to simply glue back together. They are somewhere in between. Somewhere where white noise exists._

_And that's all that Draco heard as he apparated himself out of London, white noise. He vanished out of Hogwarts and as he did, he felt his bones disintegrate into his flesh; he was no longer himself anymore. He was simply no longer the Draco __that had sided with the wrong side to impress his father. Now, he was just Draco with skin, a beating heart, functioning organs, but with no humanity left._

Draco stumbled to the ground, unfamiliar with his surroundings. He gathered that he had apparated to an alleyway in Russia. He knew this because the last time he came here, he'd managed to learn the Russian alphabet. _Россия_ was the Russian translation for _Russia_ itself, and it was also printed on a wooden sign at down the alleyway. Draco rushed towards it, searching for Blaise who ended up bumping into multiple Russian folks along the way before he made his way towards his peroxide-haired friend.

"What now?" he asked Draco.

The Dark Lord had ordered them to return in three days with Granger's wand as a souvenir. Neither of them had any idea what happened to the wands. They had always wondered if Voldemort had been developing a plan to make his Elder Wand just that bit more powerful.

They exited the alley and began the hunt for Granger by first observing the people around them. It was crucial that they knew how to blend in as tourists, that's what made them Voldemort's best hunters.

Draco murmured, "I don't know but the last siting of magic was in" – he pulled out a miniature paper from his pocket and unfolded it – "the Mamayev Hill Monuments."

"Where's that?"

Around them was noise, and bright lights, and music, and people. There were countless tourists crossing the streets, stopping to take pictures, and arguing about where they were on a map that was probably useless. The tourism made sense to Draco. He managed to obtain, from listening, that tourists who visited this city were mainly here to witness the many monuments and industrial areas. Volgograd, after all, was a manufacturing city mainly known for the Tomb of the Unknown soldiers during World War II.

All around them were monuments that marked where the Soviet army defeated Hitler's troops on the Eastern Front during the 1930's – 40's. It was a bloody battle that cost millions of lives but Russia took pride in her victory. They were proud of their country even though the western world had been against them for their policy of communism. They fought through the Russian revolution with poise and, Draco thought, if an entire country with a population of 109.3 million could survive such a brutal history, then so could he. No matter how bad the Dark Lord made life seem, he could get through it. He would.

He pointed his head in the direction of the colossal monument named 'Mother Russia'. It overlooked the entire city of Stalingrad and was as tall as the Eiffel tower. "I assume it's over there."

"You take the monuments and I'll go underground to the metro."

Blaise turned on his heel hurriedly and Draco frowned at this retreating form. He realised that Blaise had been relatively quiet ever since they found out their next target was Hermione Granger, but Draco did not want to make assumptions too quickly. Perhaps he knew that finding Granger was going to be difficult and finding her would likely take more than just three days. They knew that Granger was the most intelligent Witch of their year. She knew every nook and cranny of every book and therefore she probably knew exactly how to stay hidden from Death Eaters.

Draco clasped onto Zabini's wrist firmly.

"Where are you going? We're not separating," he said. His voice was cavernous, almost as if he were talking to himself in a hollow room and his voice bounced off the walls.

"If we don't separate, how do you expect to find Granger? The city is big," Blaise protested and slowly, Draco released his firm grip. Blaise punched his friend jokingly on the shoulder and plastered on a weak, but reassuring smile.

"I'll be careful," he promised.

* * *

_Greek Myths are quite comical to read. You don't really expect things to happen the way they do, but then you are surprised. For example, Athena springing out of Zeus' head or Hera throwing Hephaestus off Mount Olympus because of his ugliness. You question whether it really happened or whether the Greek Gods were even real. Nobody knows. I suppose they are just stories we tell children for their amusement or to scare them into eating their vegetables._

_There is a Greek myth about everything. Love, anger, jealousy, strife, power, betrayal, you name it. Most myths about love are normally tragic. Take the Greek myth about Orpheus. He was a musician, married to the shepherdess Eurydice. They were young and deep in love. Their love was so deep that when Eurydice was killed by snakes, Orpheus ventured to the Underworld to ask the God of the Underworld, Hades, to return her back to him. Before he entered, he had to find a way to get past Cerberus, the three-headed guard dog of Hades. Orpheus played the beast a song that sent him to a slumber and he eventually faced the God of the Underworld himself. When Hades heard about Orpheus' plea he agreed to give him his wife by allowing her to follow him as they walked back up to Earth, on the condition that he did not look back to check if she was still there__. So Orpheus agreed, but the closer he got to Earth, the more doubtful he got that Eurydice was actually following him. And, when the doubt got the better of him, he looked back and Eurydice was dragged back to Hades, never to return._

_How awful would it feel to go on a quest only to return the same way you entered? It is tragic, yes, but what if you were the bad guy in the quest? What if you were Hades: cold, and heartless, and cruel. Maybe you lost someone too young and the only way you can deal with it is to inflict pain on others, whether it be emotional or physical. __Perhaps Hades felt isolated by his brothers and so wanted to see people suffer. Maybe that was his way of dealing with his loneliness. He wanted to see his brothers suffer too._

Draco was Hades in that moment. Only he wasn't in perdition, he was in Russia. And he wasn't trying to capture a bride, but murder. There was no sunlight seeping through the curtains for Draco. There were no positive thoughts that swirled in his heads like the winds of Jupiter. There was nothing.

Draco's way to deal with his loneliness was to kill Muggle-borns, and to sleep, and to randomly wake up in the middle of the night and wash his face.

The water trickled from his chin like moist, crimson blood gliding down the surface of his skin. He wiped it away with the hotel towel. It had been a couple hours since he last saw Blaise, and he was beginning to get concerned. A little exasperated too. It was getting darker than before too, not a good sign.

He dropped his weight into the empty chair and sighed. He ran a hand over his damp face, and when he open his eyes again, a shimmering light appeared just a few metres from him. All of a sudden, there was a loud crack, like a whip vigorously pecked the skin of an animal. The familiar dark-skinned, lean and slouched physique that belonged to Blaise was standing in front of him.

Blaise's eyes scanned the room before they fell on Draco's. "Figured I'd find you here," Blaise said as he lifted the hand that was clutching onto a pack of beer. "Muggle beer, I'm afraid." He placed it on the table before launching a can to his best friend.

Draco opened it distastefully, his nose wrinkling. "How did you know I was here?" he asked, taking a sip of it.

The liquid kissed his taste buds before they slithered down his throat and plummeted into his stomach. The taste was awful, but at least it was cold. He needed something to distract him for a while before they had to go searching for Granger again. They had two days left and Draco hated to admit it, but she was clever. For some peculiar reason, he suddenly remembered the way a vein throbbed at the top of her forehead whenever he labelled her a Mudblood.

The sound of popping and sizzling interrupted Draco from his flashback.

"I saw you come in to this awful place about an hour ago before I stopped by some Muggle shop to buy these," Blaise answered. He raised his beer before taking another sip.

"You found anything then?"

"I did actually." Blaise fell heavily into the chair facing Draco. "Granger's living in a tent in the woods at the edge of the city."

"Well what are we doing here then?"

"Really? You'd rather kill Granger than have a beer with your best mate?" Blaise teased.

He was obviously drunk, so Draco sighed and tilted his head back.

"I could use a good laugh, Zabini," Draco hinted, referring to Blaise's witty jokes.

He snorted and gulped down the toxic liquid swimming in his can.

"Alright. Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

A smirk appears on Blaise's lips. "You know," he said.

"You Know Who?"

Blaise sniggered to himself just before he popped open another can. Draco rolled his eyes, but eventually he sneered too.

"That was the lamest of them all," he jokingly insulted.

He remembered just how pathetically witty his other jokes were. And then he remembered how innocent Blaise used to laugh when they were kids, when pursuing the role of the Death Eater was not the most important thing. When insulting Potter was funnier than trying to kill him.

He never thought he'd miss Potter's absence, but he did. Draco missed the way they could fling insults and spells at each other. He missed it all, he'd just never admit it out loud. Potter was dead anyway, and he was humbled.

* * *

The duo passed time drinking, laughing, and reminiscing their times with Theo. Pansy never crossed their minds and that was mostly intentional. They didn't want to divert the idea that Pansy was dead, that somehow, when she had fallen off the radar, something awful had happened to her. They both didn't want to confess how alone they felt, so they hid it behind selective memories of Theo. Theo had wanted nothing to do with Voldemort and his malicious plan, and neither did Goyle. They both had wanted to live somewhere far away, decrease their risk of getting murdered by the Dark Lord himself. Which they had so far managed to do quite well.

Blaise drank up the last can. He looked up at the clock and realised it was past four in the morning.

"Get some sleep Malfoy. I'll find Granger and bring her back here," he said.

"Why do you always get all the fun?" Draco set his drink down.

"What are you talking about? You get to kill 'em!"

"The chase is better than the killing, Zabini," Draco argued. "Remember Ted Tonks?"

Blaise snorted but then he abruptly stopped. "Scotland screamer?" Draco nodded proudly and then Blaise laughed out loud. "Handful that one. Felt like I was running a mile."

"And Donaghan Tremlett?" A smirk arose on the corners of Draco's lips and Blaise laughed uncontrollably.

"I didn't think he would run so fast but fucking hell!"

Draco laughed and then so did Blaise. They sighed simultaneously and stared at each other for a brief moment. Their short moment of laughter died down almost as quick as Bellatrix put the fire out in the hearth. They had been intoxicating themselves hoping that it would help them stop feeling guilty but it appeared that alcohol didn't seem to affect Draco as much as it did to Blaise.

Blaise rolled his head back. "How is that we ended up being murderous assassins for the bald cunt we call our superior?"

"I don't know."

"I should be in France with some lass, shagging her brains out, not here."

Blaise's words hit Draco like a train. He felt even guiltier now. The reason Blaise was not out there in France, messing up his bed with a girl he likes, was because of him. He had been the one to force his best friend to adjust to the murderer lifestyle.

Draco sighed the shamefaced thoughts away before he stood up, his head pounded like bells on a clock tower. He was beginning to get dizzy, but he knew he wasn't light headed. He was still sober enough to familiarise that he was in Russia, on the hunt for Hermione Granger, who was hiding out in the woods.

"How about you get some sleep and I'll go look for Granger," he advised. "Besides you're a little too pissed."

"Sod off Malfoy," Blaise replied mockingly, his eyes were beginning to close so Draco lifted him from his seat and shifted him onto the bed.

Draco rubbed his eyes and grunted as he stretched out his body. The tension had escaped his muscles. He exited the room but took a quick glance at his companion.

_Goyle opened the door as Draco and Theo rushed inside, panting heavily. From the couch Blaise jerked his head and rose up from his seat, a look of worry drowned his eyes. _

_"Malfoy, what the hell happened?" Blaise asked._

_"That sodding Mudblood happened!" Draco answered. _

_"What did she do now?" _

_A feeling of humiliation engulfed Draco's body and so he shot Blaise a disgusted look. "It doesn't matter."_

_"Malfoy –" _

_"I said it doesn't fucking matter, alright?!" _

_"He got punched by Hermione," Theo deliberately said and Draco closed his eyes, agitated that he had allowed his friend to humiliate him even further._

_"I did not!" Draco argued defensively and Blaise quietly chortled. "What are you laughing about? It's not that funny."_

_And then the empty common room ruptured into a harmony of laughter. Theo, Blaise and Goyle were laughing, at him. Even though he was being mocked he didn't want to forget this moment because Draco had never seen his friends look so alive. _

_"It was!" Blaise said through a laugh. "And you know what they say about girls being mean to boys." A smirk crept on his face._

_"No I don't." _

_"It means she likes you," Theo teased and the common room erupted into boisterous laughter once more._

Draco huffed out his nose. The brief memory was mildly amusing but at least he still had memories of Blaise's innocence. With a small smile he closed the door.

* * *

"Do you know where the bloody woods are?!"

Draco was frustrated now. He wanted to get to Granger fast so he could return home and get some sleep. But asking a Russian townsfolk for directions was easier said than done. Especially since the one he was talking to was older than 45.

"Wood?" the woman reiterated and Draco nodded.

"Yes. Do – you – know – where – that – is?"

The woman had bags under her eyes. There was twitch in her eye and Draco felt rather irritated by it.

There was also an ominous feeling swirling in the deep pits of his stomach. Something awful was going to happen. He didn't know what, and this petrified him the most. He hated not knowing what was happening.

The sun was starting to peer out from behind the murky clouds. They were the colour of vapour, grey and dismal. The one thing that Draco wasn't unsure about was the fact that the day was going to drag. It was just inevitable.

"Ah. Wood is that –" She pointed a rotund finger to her far left. "– way."

"Thank you."

Draco immediately dashed away, heading straight towards the woods, dodging every branch he could that got in his way. He ran until his legs could no longer carry him any further. They ached, and so did the rest of his body. There was the feeling of an anchor hauling him into the dark abyss of the ocean where the pressure was just too much. His head pounded from the toxins he had agreeably swallowed earlier.

But then the thought of Blaise eased his ache a little. He remembered his memory of their third year together. The teasing he constantly received from him whenever one of the Slytherin girls that he liked walked past. He tried to keep this reminiscence fresh in his mind to stop himself from feeling remorseful. He knew he couldn't feel if he wanted to get the job done. He had to turn his humanity off and Draco used Blaise as leverage to help him do this.

There was a humming of birds, a chorus of rustling trees as the wind kissed the branches. Some leaves fell to the ground like snowflakes pirouetting elegantly across the air. So vividly enthralling to witness.

All at once, there was an echo of an interrupted breeze. Like something had flown across the sky as fast as lightning. A luminous stripe of a pastel indigo dye exploded from a couple feet away and drew Draco's attention. He ran, but discreetly.

He tried to keep his footsteps subtle and unnoticeable as possible, but the brief crunch of leaves sent a quick head to turn and the lips that belonged to it cast _Reducto. _The opponent was quick, but not quick enough to injure Draco. He counteracted the spell with a flick of his wand and before he knew it, his legs were burning with the ache again. They were following the mysterious opponent and gladly, the person was not faster than Draco.

"_Stupefy_!" he shouted, but his aim was poor. He missed. He grunted in frustration. "_Sectumsempra_!" Missed again.

Draco's hearing was appalling, but he was positive that he could hear more than two people running. Leaves were chomping at random and it wasn't rhythmic like a standard sprinting tread. It was all over the place, kind of like Draco right now. With his head still muddled from the alcohol, he felt unbalanced with everything.

"Wait stop!" the person he was chasing shouted.

Draco halted immediately, he cursed his legs for doing so. "Who are you?" he asked through his gritted teeth.

The anonymous strangers appeared to both be girls. Both had their hoods up, blocking, and shading their faces from sight.

One was holding the other hostage.

"You kill me and I kill her."

"Draco…"

"Be quiet!"

That voice did not sound familiar. It did not sound the slightest bit reassuring either. The people concealed behind those hoods knew who he was but he did not who they were. That too, petrified him.

"Who – are – you?"

The one holding the other hostage gradually slid her hood down.

From beneath sprung a soft brown curl, followed by another, and then two beaming russet orbs were glowering at him. A calculating expression spread across her face and Draco felt repugnance dissolve in the blood inside his veins. His palms began to sweat with revulsion and antipathy as he glowered at the filthy Mudblood with neurotic eyes.

"I don't want to hurt her Malfoy," the voice of Hermione Granger breathed out. "Let me go and I'll let her go."

"You? Hermione Granger? You wouldn't hurt a fly if you saw one!"

"I'll kill her." Her voice was sharp, poised, and very positive that she _was_ going to kill. "I _will_ kill her."

Draco scoffed, his wand aimed at her sturdily. "You're bluffing."

She pulled down her hostage's hood and the face that he didn't want to see the most was staring back at him. Her eyes drowning in water as a tear streamed down her squalid face. Big, bright auburn eyes were staring into his soul like electricity passing through an idle body. He was sure he was slowly drowning inside but he didn't even want to try and swim. His feet were immobilised. He wanted to cast a spell and wrench her out of Granger's grasp but his hands only quivered. Why wasn't he doing anything?

"Does it look like I'm bluffing?" Granger's nostrils flared agitatedly. "Believe me, four years on the run is enough time to change a person. I've killed a lot of people to stay alive and I've lost more than I count, so don't miscalculate me, Malfoy, or so help me God, I _will_ kill her."

"Let her go, Granger." Draco's voice was solemn, pecking the rims of a monotone.

"Only if you swear to let me run."

Draco shook his head. "I can't do that. He'll kill me and he'll kill Blaise and he'll kill you."

"Then run. Nobody has to know."

"Why? Why should I let you go?" he pressed resolutely. "You're nothing but a filthy Mudblood."

"I need to find my family. I'm tired of running, Draco. Please, I am begging you," she pleaded.

"Draco just say yes," Pansy said through an exhale of breath. "Just say yes."

And through her words he could hear his father's. The same demanding tone and scratchy exterior that nipped at the back of throat. The same pain of trying to amend his decisions just to impress his father. It wasn't a pleasant memory. He thought he could try and relive it but the thought of his father sent a quivering shake that caressed his spine softly.

"It's a life for a life, Malfoy," Granger said.

His hand trembled obstinately. What could he possibly say or do to make sure he had done his job and managed to obtain Pansy at the same time? He could promise that he'd let her run and then chase her after he acquired Pansy. That way he'd be doing his job whilst saving Pansy.

"Alright, fine." The words unintentionally slipped out. His quavering hand lowered and Granger surprisingly and willingly released Pansy from her grasp.

There was never any mention from Blaise, or Theo, or Goyle about his feelings for Pansy. They had always been extremely close and intimate but neither of his friends questioned whether they really liked each other. Perhaps it was Pansy who was miraculous at acting or maybe it was Draco's authority that stopped the three from ever letting the question slither out.

She ran into his arms like a lost puppy, damaged and desperate for a home. But when he enveloped his arms around her, it didn't feel like her. At all. Her hair was different, it didn't smell of apples. Skin to skin pressed against each other, yet Draco could not feel electricity pass through his flesh, through his veins, and through his bones. There was nothing there. No burning desire to hug her, to kiss her, not even touch her. No feeling of him falling off the edge of reality.

She pulled away awkwardly and turned to face Granger. That's when Draco knew something dreadful was about to happen. He knew in that brief moment when Pansy and Granger exchanged looks that something was odd and something was unbalanced.

Granger turned on her heel, dashing away. She looked back over her shoulder, shouting, "Luna, run!"

* * *

Thank you **Maleday** for betaing my first chapter. I appreciate the help. I'll be sure to repost the improved one soon. I'll be updating this fic every Friday. I hope you enjoyed and I'm sorry for any mistakes that I've made. :) I'm honestly so lazy.

Jenna xoxo


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